


Dungeons and Surprises

by Nanimok



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Comedy, Comic Book Science, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, References to Addiction, References to Drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 19:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17392091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanimok/pseuds/Nanimok
Summary: Tim has a good idea what his epic birthday surprise might be, and he's hardly ever wrong when it comes to guessing about his surprises."This is going to be so great!" Tim exclaims, bursting through their living room in his handcrafted, blue-velvet wizard robe—his faction lovely embroidered into his chest by his own two calloused hands. "I heard we're all starting a new campaign and I brought my starter set! I hope you all got your characters sheets with you!"Waving a book manically at the room, it takes a second before Tim realises, sadly, that he’s alone.Well, Tim thinks, flopping onto the nearest sofa and sighing. There’s a first time for everything, and apparently, his super epic birthday surpriseisn’tJason joining his D&D group like he thought it would be.The surprise could only go downhill from here, if Tim were honest.





	Dungeons and Surprises

**Author's Note:**

  * For [utazawa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/utazawa/gifts).



> Prompt: Jason trying really hard to surprise Tim but having difficulty because Tim is sneaky and likes to know what is going on at all times. After several failed surprises, he decides to improvise.
> 
> First of all, apologies for being so late! Thank you for your patience, both utazawa and molim. 
> 
> The second apology is for how the fic actually turned out hahaha as I tried my best to keep the essence of the prompt, but Jason and Tim kept derailing me ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I hope that the story is still enjoyable nonetheless!
> 
> Written Jaytim Secret Santa Exchange 2018

When Tim reads the note from Jason, the one about his super epic birthday surprise that’s one hundred percent, totally guaranteed to leave Tim happy winking face, he refrains from springing from his seat and hunting Jason down then and there. Jason isn’t as slick as he like to think he is, and he’s been basically screaming out hints the whole week.

Tim has a good idea what his epic birthday surprise might be, and he's hardly ever wrong when it comes to guessing about his surprises.

"This is going to be so great!" Tim exclaims, bursting through their living room in his handcrafted, blue-velvet wizard robe—his faction lovely embroidered into his chest by his own two calloused hands. "I heard we're all starting a new campaign and I brought my starter set! I hope you all got your characters sheets with you!"

Waving a book manically at the room, it takes a second before Tim realises, sadly, that he’s alone.

 _Well,_ Tim thinks, flopping onto the nearest sofa and sighing. There’s a first time for everything, and apparently, his super epic birthday surprise _isn’t_ Jason joining his D&D group like he thought it would be.

The surprise could only go downhill from here _,_ if Tim were honest _._

In that moment, his phone vibrates. Jason’s face pops onto his phone screen. Even after all these years, Tim couldn’t resist a small smile while still in his sulky position.

“Hey, bub,” Jason says over the phone. His eyes flicks to Tim’s hat and his wizard robes, and Jason has to tamp down a grin from breaking out. “I see you got my message.”

“I did,” Tim says. “And let me tell you I’m sorely disappointed that it wasn’t what I thought it was.”

“You know most people would guess sex and be ecstatic about it.”

Tim scoffs. “Yeah, but does sex span into months of bizarre and improbable yet hilarious antics with an unlikely group of mismatched friends?”

Jason stares at Tim. It feels a little judgy.

“I’d be worried if it did,” Jason decides. “ _Anyway_ , you didn’t wear your precious robes in shame because I, your best, most intelligent, most handsome, and humble boyfriend—”

“Fair assessment,” Tim says, “for a sample size of _one_.”

“—have combined your two favourite things for an epic birthday surprise; treasure hunt and D&D.”

That makes Tim sit up in his seat. “I do love a good treasure hunt,” Tim says. “But—”

“But you always get ahead in surprises,” Jason finishes for him. “Spoiling gifts before they’re ready. I know, I know—that’s alright; I’ve factored that in. This treasure hunt is convoluted enough to make even Dick pause and scratch his head. It’s practically a telenovela. And I’ve known you long enough that I can predict your progress with a schedule Oracle and I’ve devised.”

Tim is playing right into Jason’s hands and he knows it. “Is that a challenge?” he asks. “We’ve been together for so long that hardly anything can surprise me.”

Jason grins. “Only one way to prove me wrong.”

Oh, Tim is going to love wiping the smug grin on his face. 

“You’re on,” Tim says, almost bouncing in his seat. “What’s my first clue?”

“Your first clue is on the bookshelf,” Jason says. “Now, chop chop! If you want to prove me wrong, I expect to be at the final location before eight. Happy Birthday, Timmers. I’ll see you at the finish line.”

 

* * *

 

Back in their first stages of infatuation, Jason mentioned his pleasure at studying Shakespeare in his lit course. The next two hours had Tim listening to Jason with hearts in his eyes all the while he had no idea what Jason was actually talking about. It was a testament to Tim’s feelings for Jason that Tim took the one activity he despised more than Boomerang himself:

_Studying._

But since it was for a subject that Tim was—and still is—passionate about (Jason) Tim devoted nothing less but his best into the endeavour, and now it’s starting to pay off.

A sheet of paper in binary is his first clue, which Tim interprets into a circuit diagram and a set of numbers. Tim and Jason basically rewired their whole house within the first month of moving in, so he recognises that the diagram resembles the wiring that powers the library. He ponders at the numbers before realising that they are the number of Jason’s favourite Shakespeare sonnets ( _See, Jason! He does listen!_ ) finds pencil marks littering the stanzas of the sonnets.

There was a reason Jason hinted at bringing his starter set handbook. And after cracking his first clue using the handbook, Tim knows why.

This is shaping up to be best birthday in his entire life.

After a series of Jason’s signature brain busting cyphers, Tim finds himself standing in a park greeted by—

“Roy?” Tim asks, incredulous. “Are you—a _bard_?”

Wearing a red garb, curly shoes, and an infamous reputation for his ability to break glass with his singing unintentionally Roy strums a mournful chord on his lute. Once.

“Unfortunately,” Roy says. “Thought it would fit after Shakespeare. Here I am, a bard, regretting my loss on poker night.”

“Wow,” Tim says. “Even against Bizarro?”

“Clearly you’ve never seen the man’s poker face.”

"A self-professed tone-deaf bard; well, now you just look silly,” Tim says in his handcrafted blue-velvet wizard robes.

Roy glares at him. “Since it’s your birthday, I’ll refrain myself from composing a verse that would truly roast you into next year.” Roy says, his fingers racing, plucking ACDC, if Tim’s not mistaken. “Heads up.”

Tim’s reflexes springs his hand up fast enough to catch a bag of gold coins.

“Your next challenge is to barter for pieces of your next clue.”

Tim inhales. “This is so _awesome_ ,” he breathes out. “Who am I doing it with? What am I looking for? How many pieces do I have to collect and how much time do I have—”

“Woah, slow down,” Roy cuts in. “That’s for you to find out for yourself. I will say this, however, the people you have to barter with…they’re tough.”

Tim halts his happy dance. “Tough as in…”

Roy doesn’t say anything. He only needs to step aside, showing the building Roy was obscuring from Tim’s line of sight.

“Oh no,” Tim says, gulping.

“Oh yes,” Roy says, cracking his first smile of the day.

Here, Tim must hold on to all his wit. His resolve will be tested and tried, and it will be harder than bartering with criminals. Harder than bartering with informants. Even harder than bartering with Bart for the last piece of pizza.

Tim will have to barter with the kids at Jason’s Youth Centre.

 

* * *

 

Usually, the kind of surprise Tim deals with are never pleasant. At worst, someone’s dying, and at the absolute worst, someone he _cares_ about is already dead because he’s too late to save them.

At best some kind of mass destruction or inter-dimensional crossovers, or supernatural events, or extra-terrestrials of the angry and vindictive kind from another dimension unleashing mass destruction upon Gotham—well, you get the gist of it. He’s learnt to expect the worst from surprises. It’s efficient that way; if he expects the worst, then he can prepare accordingly, and everything else that happens is positive in comparison.

So when Jason starts withdrawing from the family, Tim’s thoughts twist itself into a knot that sinks to the bottom of his stomach.

Addiction can run thicker than blood, and in one rare, brief moment during their stakeouts, Jason mumbled the numerous dots scarring his arm. A ghost from when he lived on the streets. Then again when he first came back to Gotham as Red Hood. He’s been sober for years but the desire, he says, aches like a phantom pain during winter.

They’re not close. Not anywhere near, but still Tim…worries. And he does it enough to start his surveillance habits.

“I don’t get it, Alfred,” Tim says, talking over a mouthful of food. “Jason’s acting all shady and sus, discretely buying out property and expanding his territory in a way that also meant expanding his operations. I was really expecting the _worst,_ but it wasn’t! It was just—just—”

“Do try not to speak while eating, Master Timothy,” Alfred says, in the middle of putting plates away. “Slow down. Your meal will be here long after you’ve finished telling your story.”

“Right. Sorry.” Tim swallows his food. “I guess I expected everything else that’s not what it actually was. Otherwise, why would he be so secretive about it?”

“Which was?”

“An abuse shelter and a youth centre,” Tim says. “Hidden in the fringes of the Bowery.”

“Fitting that it’s hard to find, given that the people it’s sheltering does not want to be found,” Alfred says. “But really, Master Timothy, what is truly bothering you about this whole ordeal?”

Ah, yes, he forgets that Alfred is more omniscient than Doctor Manhattan himself. Between the Bat Family and the Justice League, Alfred probably holds the secrets of the universe in the palm of his polite hands.  

“Ugh.”

“Yes, I’m afraid,” Alfred says dryly. “We shall need to use our words as sharing your troubles is part of the package of becoming a functional human being.”

“It’s stupid,” Tim says, putting his plate in the sink.

“Nonetheless,” Alfred says. “I insist you speak it.”

“I was unfair to him, and I guess I feel bad,” Tim says. “He’s doing a generous thing for the community, and instead of recognising that Jason’s changed, I expected the worst from him, even though he doesn’t know about it. The more I think about it, I see why he’d want to keep things under wrap.”

Alfred nods. “Some things you must do by yourself, after all. If you feel that you were unfair towards Master Jason, even internally, then make it up to him discretely. Master Jason doesn’t need to know anything about it.”

“Huh,” Tim says. “You’re completely right.”

Alfred pats his hand. “Fortunately, I always am.”

Anyone else and the statement would sound a little smug but since it’s from Alfred, it just sounds like the complete and whole _truth._

Which is what Tim sets out to do. From his experiences with Wayne Enterprises, there’s a lot of legal paperwork that needs to be done when establishing non-profit foundations. It doesn’t even look like Jason has a trustworthy legal team behind it yet, so Tim must have really stumbled upon its early stages.

He decides to do the research for him—all the background checks, financial history, letter of referrals—and compile it all in a folder to be anonymously sent to Jason. He includes a hefty donation, wrapped in a heavily secured cyber foot trail that heavily suggests Alfred is the benevolent mastermind behind it, and calls it a day.

(Really it took a couple of weeks, but who’s counting?)

Alfred knocks on the door of his office. “Master Jason hugged me today,” Alfred informs him. “Was this your doing?”

Tim resists from perking up. “Everyone hugs you in this house. You’ll have to be more specific.”

Alfred raises his eyebrows, amused. He puts down a plate a slice of pandan cake—Tim’s favourite courtesy of Cass—right in front of him, before sighing.

“It’s not the end of the world if he knows,” Alfred says. “Will you not consider telling him?”

Tim doesn’t answer, only scrunching his nose.

The expression, the _happiness_ on Jason’s face when he came to hug Alfred was so _pure_ , and their relationship right now is so _messy._ Tim doesn’t want to ruin that. Jason deserves a moment of happiness that’s purely his—untouched from the complicated ugliness of their past.

“Nah,” Tim says. “If he knows, it’ll change this weird truce we’re currently in, and probably not for the better. I’d rather not risk it.”

Alfred is exuding skepticism in his gaze, but Tim has mastered avoidance from the tender age of twelve and ducks his head, pretending to be enthralled by his computer screen.

 

* * *

 

“So, will you risk it all, Mr. Drake?”

Under the weight of all the heavy stares wanting to rip his wits to bits, Tim looks around his table. Fierce competitors, the lot of them. The most bloodthirsty kind. On this single table, Tim has seen hand tricks that would even make the most experienced card dealer envious.

But then Tim knew what he was getting into when he sat down to play poker with these children.

“All in,” Tim says.

Beside him, a little girl folds her hand with a grim look on her face.

A round of tense silence as the remaining competitors slid in their chips. They unveil their cards.

A choruses of groans, complaints, and “Aw man,” rumbles around the able as a range of kids between the age of eight to sixteen throws their cards on the table and stomps out of their chairs while Tim laughs maniacally.

“Congratulations on trouncing a bunch of kids at poker,” Roy says, leaning against the back of his chair. “I hope you feel great about yourself.”

There are sneaky eyes trailing at his winning. Tim narrows his own and brings his chips closer, cradling them close to his chest like a robot baby. “I do, actually. How come all your eight year olds know how to play poker, anyway? Not only play, but cheat deviously, as well.”

“They’re Jason’s kids,” Roy says, and honestly, that explains everything.

He’s a regular at the Youth Centre as a tutor, but he never knew how brutal double dutch could be until today. His calf muscles feels like they’ve been strung tighter than an instrument.

“Here’s your clue by the way.”

Tim catches the plastic flying by his head by pure reflex.

Limb by limb, he’s been winning pieces of an action figure. It’s a little macabre, but definitely Jason’s sense of humour. He figured that the action figure was Superman right around the time Tim won his head, but the kids are always happy to see him, and if Tim allows him to admit it himself, the feeling’s mutual.

He fixes the red cape onto Superman, and couldn’t stop the warmth bursting from his smile. “Pretty sure I know where to go from here,” Tim says. “Thanks for the great time, Roy.”

“No problem,” Roy says. “I hope I never have to do this ever again in my life. But. Hope you enjoy the rest of your day. Happy Birthday, Tim.”

 

* * *

 

Their first non-official date was watching an unofficial Superman biopic where the CGI was _bad_ , the story was outrageous, and Jason practically kicked the door down during one of Tim’s information binges, threw the ticket at his face, told him to shower, and warned him that he only had twenty minutes to do it before Jason dragged him out butt naked. Tim described it as a non-official date because Tim thought they were just hanging out, but Jason argued that, because he wore his special formal leather jacket, then it was a date-date.

Tim doesn’t have the heart to tell Jason that he can’t distinguish between his formal leather jacket and his everyday-wear leather jacket.

Still, that night will always hold a fond memory in his heart. If Tim had to peg a moment where things started turning between them, it would be here, during their first time admiring the beauty hidden in Gotham's light pollution.

Gotham’s skyline at night is no different than any other major city, but it’s still mesmerising in its own right. In the absence of stars, the buildings glow, and high up the roof of Wayne Enterprise, noise pollution is muffled; easily forgotten.

This kind of quiet is dangerous, Tim thinks. It’s a quiet, almost soft, encouragement to be adventurous and brave. Daring.

“So, why’d you bring me to the movies?” Tim asks. “Not that it wasn’t nice. Which it was—thanks for that. Still.”

Jason, sitting with one knee up and resting his elbow in a way that highlight the breadth of his shoulders, tosses him a questioning glance. 

Then Tim scowls at himself.

 _Be daring, Tim_. _Not damn awkward!_

“Can’t I just do something nice because I feel like it?” Jason says.

Tim blinks. “You kinda threw the tickets at my face.”

“Yeah, but I _paid_ for them,” Jason says.

“I’m pretty sure you broke the door when you came in too.”

“Paid for them!” Jason emphasizes once more. “Free movie experience! You’re welcome.”

Tim’s skeptical considering their track record, but Jason takes one look at his face and sighs.

“Look,” Jason says. “Call it what you want; depression mania, an epiphany, a pity hang—

“A massive realisation after a life changing altercation with a morally diametrically opposed enemy?” Tim offers.  

The corner of Jason’s mouth twitches up. “Yeah, that. Much more believable. Anyhow, I’ve decided to try and move on from the past and start anew.”

“Starting anew somehow ended up with you kicking my door down?”

“If you didn’t want your door kicked down, then you shouldn’t have locked it obviously,” Jason says.

“Oh, okay then,” Tim nods, resisting a smile, “how silly of me to lock my own door in my own home.”

Glad to see that Tim’s not the only struggling at being a functional human being. If Jason wants to start anew, at least with Tim, then Tim's not going to complain. He's not going to miss his chance at heckling Jason either.

“So you’re hanging out with Dick tomorrow?” he asks

Jason only smiles. “Shut up and enjoy the view, Replacement.”

 

* * *

 

Damian accosts him in the hallway just before the rooftop of Wayne Enterprises. There are latex prosthetic on his ear, sharping it tips. Under the hood of his cloak, his face twists like he’s in absolute pain.

Tim, however, has never been more delighted in his life.

“ _Damian?_ A Druid?” Tam taps his chin in deliberation. “Actually," he decides, "that fits pretty well. I can’t believe that Jason roped you into this. You look, frankly, quite adorable.”

“There are no words to describe my current despair and agony,” Damian says. “And I sincerely hope you are not taking pictures of me right now, because if you are, I warn you, Drake, I will break into your house and grind all your beloved ‘collectibles’ into _dust_ with my bare _hands._ ”

“What? _No._ Absolutely not,” Tim denies as he slides his phone into his sleeve. He looks Damian up and down, using all of his will to restrain himself from laughter. He waits a beat. Then:

“You lost at Poker night too, didn’t you?”

“Argh! His luck won’t save him from failure next time!” Damian chucks a corner of his cape over his shoulder. “But enough of this! I challenge you to a duel.”

“Right here in the hallway?” Tim asks. “Strange, but okay.” He begins to lift up his robe.

“Not quite.”

In a blink of an eye, Damian has set out a makeshift table and placed the box in the middle, and Tim thought he couldn’t have gotten more delighted before, he was wrong.

There, on the table, is favourite card game in the universe.

_Dungeon Mayhem._

 

* * *

 

“But you did have fun, right?”

Ripped out of his idle daydreaming, Tim asks, “Huh?”

“Tonight? At the movies,” Jason says. “I didn’t—I don’t know—I didn’t step out of line, did I?”

He combs hair with his fingers, pushing off his face, instead of letting it brush against his cheekbones. His fringe is a lot longer than Tim realised. Has it been that long since Tim last saw him?

“No.” Tim shakes his head. “I mean, yes, I had fun. No, you didn’t step out of line. You surprised me is all. Normally, the surprises that come up aren’t usually this—well—”

“Well?”

“Good,” Tim decides on.

Such a simple word, maybe a little too simplistic, but right now, with how light and free Tim is feeling, existing comfortably with no expectations heaped upon his shoulders, no other word suffices.

Jason pauses for a moment, before lying back with his arms folded behind his head. “Good.”

“Good?”

“You surprised me too, Tim,” Jason admits, “but yeah, it’s good.”

 

* * *

 

Tim bursts through the door, excitement springing his feet. He registers the picnic blanket before diving for his target, tackling him until they lie on the blanket.

“Oof,” Jason says, as Tim basically crushes him from his body weight.

Jason dressed up as an half-orc ranger; the leather hugs him, and Tim indulges himself by letting his hands linger at his warm, solid body before folding his hands on Jason’s chest and resting his head on it.  His grin grows slowly, soppy with adoration, and he gets the pleasure of watching Jason’s face mirror it.

Tim forms the words with his mouth before he thinks on it. “I stand corrected on having the best, most intelligent, most handsome, and humble boyfriend in the world.”

“Oh?”

Tim rises on his hands to give Jason a kiss, breathing him in with a sigh. Then he goes in again and again because it’s been such a great day but he’s _finally_ alone with Jason, and god, he forgot that Jason’s lips could be so soft—

Jason squeezes his arms. “Wait,” he says, breathing hard. “I have plans.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, I just…” Jason’s eyebrows dip downwards. “I just need to remember them for a second. Could you grab the wine from the basket? ”

Smug and satisfied, Tim sneaks a quick kiss at the hard line of his jaw and lets himself be nudged off. He debates sitting up to reach the basket, but decides on rolling and reaching as far as he can, ignoring Jason’s snort behind his back.  

“Hey, no judging,” Tim says, grabbing the wine bottle and finally sitting up. “I had to talk to a lot of people today and I’m—”

His hold on the wine bottle slips, and the bottle thuds on the blanket.

Somehow, without making a single noise, Jason managed kneel beside him with a velvet box in his hands.  

“I never expected to live this long, and I never expected to be this happy,” Jason begins. “But Timothy Jackson Wayne, when I’m with you, I see my whole future—shit!” Jason scrambles to catch his shoulder, the ring forgotten. “Shit! Tim, are you okay?! Are you hyperventilating?!”

His chest feels tight, but it’s not hyperventilating. “No,” Tim says, voice shaky.

“Jesus Christ.” His hands runs up and down his arms. “Breathe Tim.”

“No,” Tim blubbers. “Don’t make me cry then tell me what to do!”

Then he drags Jason down, tumbling him into the blankets and hopes Jason can hear the _‘yes, yes, yes!_ ’ in his kisses.

His whole birthday has been a surprise from one moment and the next, much like his relationship with Jason, but Tim enjoys every minute of it. He’s going to _keep_ enjoying every minute of it until both their muscles are sore from his gratitude and it takes days before Tim can walk without flinching.

Later on, Damian will inform them, with great distaste, that the Gotham Police Department received calls about two people fornicating on the roof of Wayne Enterprises, and well, that’s quite a surprise too, but it’s still not one that he regrets a single bit.

**Author's Note:**

> Jason started hanging because he found out about the donations. Tim's a tough cookie to cyber-crack but Jason's tougher.
> 
> Another round of thank you to [utazawa](http://utazawa.tumblr.com) and [molim](http://http://my-one-love-is-music.tumblr.com) for their patience! So many apologies for posting late, I hope you enjoy the gift!
> 
> [ Jaytim Secret Santa Exchange's tumblr ](http://jaytimsecretsanta.tumblr.com/)  
> [my tumblr](http://fatcatsarecats.tumblr.com/)


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